


Four things that might have happened to Ethan Rayne (and one that definitely did)

by hotchoco195



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Jossverse
Genre: Alternate Canon, Bad Romantic Decisions, Drabble Collection, History, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mysticism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 01:33:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotchoco195/pseuds/hotchoco195
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giles has more than a few skeletons in his closet where Ethan is concerned. Pretty much exactly what the title says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four things that might have happened to Ethan Rayne (and one that definitely did)

 Sunnydale, October 1997

Ethan could hardly believe it. Blow into town to enjoy a little chaos, and who’s bloody guardian of the Hellmouth? He had to see it for himself – after all, demon gossip isn’t the most reliable. Peering around the shelves of the stacks, he watched as Rupert closed a thick volume and added it to a growing pile on the table. He took a sip from a rather dainty teacup and winced – obviously long cold. Ethan watched Giles take off his glasses and rub his eyes, looking so tired, so stuffy. He’d been domesticated right and proper. But there was still a hint of his old friend in there. The body wasn’t as lean and toned as it had been, but he’d picked up a hint of Californian tan. His hair was greying in that dapper upper-class way, his clothes were cheap but chosen for comfort rather than style. He looked completely harmless, but Ethan knew there was still a young man in there who loved the danger and destruction of a good spell. And though he hadn’t planned to say anything, face to face with Rupert he knew he couldn’t just slip away quietly.

He stepped out from behind the shelves and leant on the mezzanine rail.

“Hello Ripper.”

Giles was on his feet in an instant, mace in hand. When he realised who it was, he lowered the weapon very, _very_ slowly.

“Ethan. Care to explain what you’re doing here?”

The other man smirked at Giles’ face warring between shock and pretence at calm control. He started down the stairs.

“Can’t I stop by and say hello once a decade? We were close once Ripper.”

“A long time ago. That’s not who I am anymore - who _we_ are.”

“So you’re not happy to see me?” Ethan pouted prettily as he sat on the corner of the table.

“Not particularly.” said Giles, but the faintest glimmer in his eyes disagreed. Ethan was very familiar with that glimmer.

“Liar. I bet you’re ecstatic for the break from monotony.”

Giles smiled half-heartedly. “I suppose. But I can’t shake the feeling you have horrible intentions.”

His face went cold instantly, shutting Ethan out. “Why are you in Sunnydale?”

“Why are _you_ in Sunnydale?”

“I have a life here. A job, a house, a duty-”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a life to me. When was the last time you let loose? Had a little fun?”

“I believe our idea of fun differs these days.”

“Bollocks. You’re just out of practice, I can tell. We used to be a couple of hell-raisers, didn’t we?” Ethan smiled warmly, fingering the cover of a grimoire near his leg. Giles frowned and snatched the book away, scooping them all into a pile and heading for his office.

“Things were easier then.”

He placed the books on his desk and turned to find Ethan blocking the doorway.

“Things could be easy again, if you’d stop letting your brain get in the way.”

“That’s your bloody problem Ethan. You never use your brain.”

The smaller man strode forward, hips swaying jauntily, until he stood only a hand’s width from Giles.

“I’m problem-free mate. You’re the one suffocating here. Let me help – just for a couple of hours.”

They were so close, and there was so much about Ethan that was comfortingly familiar. His scent, a heady mix of expensive cologne and powerful sorcery, like sex with the lights off. The way his body seemed made to be wrapped up in Giles’, molded to fit his chest and the cradle of his arms. Those lips...sometimes, after a quiet patrol, he’d go home and have a few scotches and think about those lips.

“I’m afraid nothing you give comes free.” He muttered, his top half already leaning in to close the gap between them.

“For you Rupes, I can make an exception.”

Ethan wasn’t going to make the first move. Giles had to want it, had to admit to himself he wanted it. But instead of the drawn out deliberating he expected, within a second Rupert had swooped down and pressed his lips to Ethan’s roughly. Ethan let Giles fold him into his arms while he attacked shirt buttons until he could lay his palms flat on the bare skin of the other man’s chest. Giles shrugged out of the shirt without breaking their kiss which had turned deeper, desperate, like Rupert was trying to reclaim a piece of himself and Ethan was offering it for the taking. The smaller man ran his hands down Giles’ arms, then pulled back to watch his fingers trace the stark black mark on one arm.

“Thought you’d have gotten rid of it by now.”

“Never really seemed important enough to bother.” Rupert shrugged.

He tugged at Ethan’s hips, dragging him back into the kiss and opening up to let their tongues collide. Everything about them was hungry, their fingers as they grasped for flesh and their mouths as they held their breath to draw each kiss out longer, longer...

Ethan walked Giles backwards until he hit the wall, Ethan’s fingers tinkering with his belt. With a loud unzip, his trousers fell open and Ethan’s small hand ducked in, closing around his erection. Loosely fisted around the librarian’s shaft, he moved leisurely, kissing Giles until the warm grip around his staff was too distracting and he leant his head back against the wall, moaning quietly. Ethan felt as though everything was just the same and completely different at once. He stroked faster, brushing his thumb over the tip on each pass, drinking in Giles’ face. Open-mouthed but with his eyes clenched shut as he thrust into Ethan’s hand, he looked remarkably wanton for a tweed-lover. Ethan could feel Giles’ release building just as strongly as Giles did, the firm cock twitching in his hand with an accompanying gasp. Dropping to his knees, Ethan closed his mouth around the purple head and sucked once. Giles erupted in the back of his throat, hands clutching at Ethan’s hair as he emptied himself into the other man’s mouth. Ethan just swallowed it as quickly as he could, for the first time in almost twenty years. He’d never tell Rupert, but he didn’t do that for just any guy.

When Giles had calmed enough to release his head, Ethan moved back and licked the sticky white from his cock. Giles slid down the wall to collapse next to him, a look of utter exhausted content on his face.

“Have you missed me, Ripper?” Ethan leered, licking the last salty traces from his lips.

“Infinitely.”

They sat there quietly while Rupert caught his breath, Ethan ignoring the painful way his hard-on dug into his zipper. But then the other man looked over, and his eyes had gone past glimmer into smoulder, and Ethan was lunging for his lips again. Giles stood, half-dragging him off the floor and into a chair. Settling on the floor between his knees, Giles had Ethan’s pants off in less than four seconds. He didn’t pause, swallowing Ethan right to the hilt.

“Jesus, Ripper!” he shouted, bucking up in the chair but trapped by the hands on his thighs. Giles bobbed up and down, swirling his tongue around and along the length and flicking it over the tip as he went. Ethan had always liked Ripper best like this – taking Ethan’s pleasure for himself, holding all the power even as he sucked hard. He was still in charge, no matter how much cock he swallowed. Giles was squeezing his balls a little roughly, pulling just enough to hurt in a good way. His fingers crept further back and suddenly Ethan was impaled on two digits. He howled but relaxed his muscles, letting Giles in further. It was uncomfortable, but when those fingers pressed in a little, the pleasure rocketing through his core completely blocked out any pain. Ethan was trapped between a warm, wet mouth and the fire sparking from his prostate outwards. He rocked back as Giles took him deep again and swallowed around his quivering dick, and then he was coming in spurts. He lay back in the chair, every muscle limp as flashes of white faded from his vision. Giles slid free, leaning over to spit in his bin. Of course Ripper never swallowed – some things don’t change. Ethan watched the other man dress without ever glancing at the half-naked sorcerer in his chair, and with a sigh refastened his slacks.

“You’re as talented as ever.”

Giles looked unsure as he replied. “Bit like riding a bike I suppose.”

Ethan ran a thumb along Giles’ jaw and smirked. “And don’t forget you had an excellent teacher.”

“It was – is – good to see you again Ethan.”

_Will you be saying that after tomorrow?_ “I’m in town for a while. Might see you again?”

“Perhaps.” Giles smiled sadly.

Ethan nodded and walked out. Seemed a shame to ruin a possible rekindling, but he had certain commitments to Chaos that must be paid. _Sorry, Rupes_.

 

Sunnydale, November 1997

When Giles turned his lamp on, Ethan was already sitting on the kitchen counter.

“You!” he snarled, snatching up a crossbow.

“Easy now Ripper! You can’t kill me – I’m human.” Ethan held up his hands.

“Barely,” Giles spat, “Get out.”

“I just want to talk mate. Haven’t done that in a while.”

“There’s nothing to say. Your selfishness almost killed two people I care very much about.”

“Look, Ripper, I won’t waste time apologizing for that. But I am sorry, for your sake. Wouldn’t want to see you get hurt.”

“And of course I believe you, since you are always so sincere.” Giles scoffed, dropping his crossbow to pour himself a scotch.

“I don’t say things like that very often, but when I do, I mean them.”

Giles swallowed with a dark chuckle. “I don’t know what you want from me Ethan. Haven’t caused enough trouble for one day?”

“I’m leaving. The Slayer’s not too fond of me, so I’ll be getting out, but I just needed to see you, make sure you were gonna be okay.”

“No thanks to you. Jenny will probably never speak to me again.”

“Now that’s not my fault Ripper. You were the one trying to hide in those jackets with patches on the elbows. Trying to be someone else.”

“I am not hiding! That part of my life is long over, and I don’t enjoy reminiscing.”

“Afraid you’ll miss me too much?” Ethan pushed.

Giles carefully placed his drink on the table, strode over to the counter and grabbed him by the collar.

“You want to know why I never got rid of Eyghon’s mark? Because every time I looked at it, it reminded me of you. And the good times, before you let yourself get seduced by black magicks, until I couldn’t follow you into madness and disorder.”

“But you call rising Eyghon ‘good times’.”

“I couldn’t live the way you did, always on the edge of death and chaos! I was getting tired of all that, and after-”

“After Randall died? I know. Ripper died with him. We died.”

They were silent, the anger draining from Giles’ face as his hands loosened their grasp on Ethan’s shirt.

“So you missed me then Ripper?”

“Did you miss me?”

“All the bloody time.”

Giles nodded and turned, taking his scotch as he headed for the stairs.

“Get out, Ethan.”

The warlock watched the hunched, drooping Giles climb up to his room and left without a word.

 

Sunnydale, November 1998

Giles walked into the crowded clearing with one arm slung around Joyce’s shoulders.

“Are we like, supposed to be here?”

“Prob’ly not.”

Sunnydale residents were clamouring for more candy at the factory doors. Giles glanced around, spotting a side door further down the building.

“Right, you stay ‘ere. I’ll duck in and nick some chocolate. Be back in a minute.”

He sidled around the crowd, pushing back whenever he was jostled. He made it to the door quickly and smirked as the lock clunked open under his skilled shouldering. _Still got it_. The door led through to a maze of high shelves and boxes. Voices were coming from somewhere to his right, so he set off in the opposite direction. He rounded a corner and found a small office, just a desk and a file cabinet behind a partition, the table covered in stacks of chocolate bars. He loaded up his pockets and was looking for something to carry more when there was an impatient cough behind him.

“Lost?”

He spun around, fists raised. “Ethan.”

“Ripper?” the other man raised a brow, “Didn’t know you had a sweet tooth.”

“What the bloody ‘ell are you doin’ back in my town?”

“Would you believe real estate convention?”

Giles grabbed him by the arm and shoved him into the cabinet.

“Stop pissin’ about. Every time you show up somethin’ evil ‘appens. So tell!”

Ethan smirked. “Make me.”

Giles looked madder for a second, then smiled back wickedly. “If you like…”

He spun Ethan around and forced him back onto the desk, candy tumbling over the edges. Giles leant in and ran his nose along Ethan’s throat, all the way up to his ear. He got the other man’s belt and zip undone and slid one hand in to cup a rapidly swelling penis.

“What’re you up to, Ethan?”

“Gonna have to try harder than that, Ripper.”

Giles’ answer was to bite Ethan’s neck and grab his cock at the same time.

“What’s the latest scheme?”

“Not talking.”

Giles scratched Ethan’s stomach and pulled his trousers all the way down to his ankles. He began to stroke roughly, tugging at Ethan’s hard-on as he unbuckled his own jeans with his free hand.

“Ripper…” Ethan trailed off, and Giles wasn’t sure if it was a warning or a plea.

He stopped, letting going of Ethan as he pulled his own stiff member out. He spat on his fingers and coated it lightly with saliva, nudging Ethan’s thighs apart with his hips.

“Ripper, I’m not telling you.”

And that was definitely Ethan begging for more. Giles smirked and pressed his slick tip against the other man’s ass.

“Last chance to play nice, Ethan.”

But he didn’t wait for an answer, instead thrusting in past the tight ring of muscle. Ethan spluttered and pawed at his arms as Giles braced himself against the table and thrust further.

“FUCK, Ripper! Christ!”

Ethan didn’t care how much it hurt, because Giles was stretching him out and rubbing against all those tingling places that screamed to be touched. So Giles wasn’t really in his right mind – but it felt like the old days with Ripper, and he wasn’t going to question the ethics of it. Giles pounded into him, completely ignoring the hard prick flopping between their stomachs as he pumped his hips relentlessly.

“Did you miss this, Ethan?”

“God, fuck me, god you feel amazing!”

“Did you miss it?” he closed one hand around Ethan’s shaft.

“YESSSSSS.”

Ethan could feel it, rising up his spine like that flush of a spell done right. Just as the wave was about to hit his brain, Rupert froze.

“Nooo, please, please Ripper!”

“Why did you come back ‘ere?” Giles emphasized it with a little half-thrust for each word.

“For Janus’ sake, man!”

“Ethan…”

The warlock was breathing in great shuddering gasps, the pressure all through his body weighing down on his chest. He strained against Giles but couldn’t move under his weight.

“Fine! I’m doing a job for someone, strictly business and nothing to do with you.”

“Who?” Rupert growled.

“That wasn’t part of the deal.” Ethan set his jaw, despite the fact he was still wriggling for any inch of friction.

Giles looked rebellious for a minute, but his own cock was throbbing at the squeezing of Ethan’s inner walls, and he had the answer to his original question.

“Christ!” Ethan muttered as Giles started sawing in and out of him again, his hand flying over Ethan’s cock at a brutal pace. But Ethan was too far gone to complain – with a strangled moan he came, flowing over Giles’ hand as he writhed under the bewitched librarian. Giles placed both hands further up the desk, leaning in as Ethan twitched around him and his thrusts sped up. Resting his head on Ethan’s brow, he cried out and fell over the edge.

Ethan thought they were going to plunge straight through the desk as Giles landed on him heavily. They were panting, sticky foreheads pressed together. But Giles recovered disappointingly fast, wiping his hand on the inside of his shirt and doing up his jeans while Ethan just lay there bruised and boneless.

“Might have more questions for you later.” Rupert sniffed apathetically.

“By all means.”

Ripper turned and left. Ethan was debating whether he should skip town now or wait for Ripper to come back and finish his interrogation. As long as he came back before the candy wore off, it wasn’t a terrible prospect.

 

Sunnydale, January 2000

This evening wasn’t going quite as planned, but Ethan was used to his plans crumbling down around him. Nature of Chaos and all that. The fierce look on Giles’ face was giving him fantastic shag flashbacks from his last visit to the Hellmouth, but he doubted that was what Rupert had in mind for tonight. He clutched his stomach where it had been introduced to Giles’ flashlight and kept his other hand raised between them as Giles held him up by his arm.

“Something bad is happening, bad for both of us.”

“Bad for you.” Giles scowled.

“No, no, no, listen! You have to listen, you’re going to need time to prepare!”

Giles hesitated, loosening his grip on Ethan’s coat. The chaos mage lashed out, catching him across the jaw. He made for the door again but Giles was quicker, kicking his legs out. Ethan rolled away from the follow-up punch, laughing.

“Should have known the years haven’t slowed you down. You were always better at this than me, Ripper.”

Ethan threw another punch that Giles blocked, then they were circling in a wild series of feints and near-misses, neither landing a blow. Giles managed to grab Ethan’s wrist but he wormed free and gave a good right to Giles’ nose. The Watcher grabbed him by the collar and head butted him. They stood swaying as the world shook and whined around them, both chasing their balance and only just catching it.

“Bad move, old mate.”

Giles nodded half-heartedly. “Should have remembered what a thick head you have.”

He glanced up and caught Ethan’s eye. His gaze was so intense – one of the things Giles had almost loved about him. Those deep, dark eyes bored into his, and he still had his fingers wrapped in Ethan’s collar, and for some reason he was pulling the other man’s face towards his. It was not a kiss they’d had before – this wasn’t about desire or almost love or magic-fuelled lust. It wasn’t comfort or nostalgia. It was bittersweet, like they both knew it was probably the last time, and they needed to say what they had never been able to admit. Kisses and chance encounters and hot, forbidden sex didn’t just happen to people like them. Too much history piles up, making it impossible to see each other, and they were never going to sit on the couch and play Happy Families.  Ethan threw every goodbye he’d ever said into the kiss, holding onto Giles fondly but not frantically, not tightly. Their heads moved in unison, lips touching over and over. There was no tongue, no nibbling, nothing that might lead this somewhere else. This was the kiss that _knew_ it was the last – not an accidental last. It would be burned into their memories right beside the first, more important than the thousand in between.

Giles felt those lips he’d so vividly remembered against his own, and if he wasn’t still Ripper under it all, he might have cried. This was worse than losing Olivia or Jenny – they were casualties of his calling. But Ethan had always understood him, encouraged and laughed it off and reminded him life was about more than Watching. He never asked for more, he never ran scared. At some point they’d just taken different forks in the same road, that was all. And it seemed such a trifling thing to him now, but he knew it was everything.

Ethan broke it first, leaning back. He didn’t even look at Giles, just waited for the other man to release him.

“So, you had something pressing to tell me?”

“Right. Let’s get out of here.”

 

London, a thousand and one nights, 1975-1980

Ethan and Ripper barely made it home before the taller man had him pressed into the wall, hands running all over his torso like if he stopped they might explode. Ethan kicked the door closed and grabbed a fistful of Ripper’s leather coat, dragging him onto their giant mattress that took up almost the whole bedroom floor. Ripper lived up to his name, shredding Ethan’s black tee as he rubbed his crotch against a denim-covered thigh. Ethan swirled his fingertips over the other man’s smooth face, feeling the strong lines of his jaw and cheeks before curling his fingers into short brown hair and tugging him closer. They didn’t kiss much, but tonight was one of those nights when Ethan could taste the magic on his tongue, feel it crawling under his skin and he had to know if Ripper tasted of it too. They locked tongues as if they could suck the power from each other, as if they might find something new after a hundred kisses. Ripper’s hands never stopped moving, roaming over Ethan from neck to hips just to _feel_ him.

Ethan sat up, forcing Ripper to let go so he could strip him of his coat and white tee. His belt was next, his boots kicked off quickly. Ethan’s boots flew across the room a second later, and they shucked out of their jeans, leaving a sprawl of clothes across the thin strip of visible floor. Ethan pulled Ripper back with him and they lay together, just touching, fingers intertwined. Both deep into the buzz now, each could feel the other’s heartbeat, feel each breath, until they were perfectly synchronized. Ethan grabbed the small bottle of spelled oil from beside the mattress and tipped some over his palms. He swept them over Ripper, down the strong muscles of his arms and thighs, the pointed bones of his ribs, his flat stomach and his hard, heavy cock. He could feel the caresses through his own skin, the magic and booze and various cocktail of drugs from the party flowing through every vein and into every cell. Ethan had never felt so light before, like he was floating in the darkness. He rubbed his oiled hands along his own shaft, then circled the tight pink sphincter of Ripper’s ass. Strong hands clutched at his knees as he snaked one finger in, then almost immediately a second, spreading them wide. He flicked them this way and that, then pressed forward until Ripper’s eyes rolled back and he knew he’d hit the spot. He stroked softly, slowly, drawing it out until the pleasure was almost a solid, visible thing between them, rising off Ripper’s body and coursing through them both.

Ripper whimpered when Ethan withdrew his fingers, but they were replaced by a head stretching him further. Ethan pushed forward steadily, sinking into Ripper’s flesh inch by inch until he was completely surrounded. They sighed together, still for a moment. Then Ripper wrapped his legs around Ethan’s and rolled his hips, urging the other man to move with him. They rocked together, for minutes, for hours – time had no hold on them anymore. There was nothing beyond their two bodies joined at the centres, and the slow, languorous kisses, and the never-ending spikes of shared bliss. Ripper thought he might have actually died a long time ago, and this was all a never-changing, never-ending dream. Ethan wasn’t sparing a single second of attention on thought: he wanted sensation, sweeping his fingers along Ripper’s thigh and then nipping at a raised collarbone. He wanted to feel Ripper as if he was in his skin, to share his senses from the inside. They slid together endlessly, the warmth spreading up through their torsos and then down their limbs in a fuzz, a prickling. Ethan ran his thumb along Ripper’s lower lip and down his chin, kissing him so that their tongues twisted around each other like clothes in a washing machine. Ripper was lifting his hips now, pushing back with as much effort as he could muster. Ethan could feel it coming, and he surged into Ripper again and again, constant, so conspicuously present, until with a long gasp he found his climax at the exact instant Ripper’s eyes shot open wide and he croaked out Ethan’s name.

Ethan woke up with his head on Ripper’s shoulder, curled into his chest comfortably. The other man had his free arm above his head and his legs sprawled wide – territorial even in sleep – but his other hand was firmly wrapped around Ethan’s waist. The warlock rubbed his eyes and glanced outside. It was only the grey light of the dawn, and he shook his head.

“Bugger that. Think I’ll snooze a while longer.”

He turned back into Ripper’s comforting hold and was soon snoring again.


End file.
